


All You Zombies

by cleyendecker



Category: The LEGO Movie (2014)
Genre: Ghost!Benny, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1949841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleyendecker/pseuds/cleyendecker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>GCBC picks up a part-time job as a night security guard in a supposedly-haunted museum.</p><p>(Based on an AU prompt from tumblr user <a href="http://kelseystanley.tumblr.com/">kelseystanley</a>)</p><p> </p><p>  <i>I know where I came from—but where did all you zombies come from?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In 1987 the spaceship Gemini V burned up on reentry. A bit of space debris had ripped through the left wing of the craft-- it was a hopeless mission to try to get home but they tried it anyway. The craft broke up in a field over California. There were no survivors.

A memorial was erected at the air and space museum, chronicling the lives and fates of the brave astronauts who gave their lives in the name of science and exploration. The exhibit was filled with pictures of the crew, of the Gemini V and its mission, a few bits of debris.

The only thing recovered from the wreckage that wasn't entirely burnt beyond recognition was a blue helmet with a yellow visor, cracked straight down the middle. The helmet was a chilling reminder of the loss, sitting on a blue cushion behind plexiglass, a small place card next to it detailing who it had belonged to. It was a somber memorial, but with a tinge of hopefulness as well. 

Admist the pictures of the Gemini V was the reminder that in the face of tragedy new technologies advanced that would make the future missions of the Space Corps safer and more successful than ever.

Since the memorial was installed, museum staff insisted that strange things kept happening in that particular wing. Dozens of third shift security guards quit their jobs over supposed phenomena that ranged from lights turning off, strange whistling in empty corners, to the blue helmet smashing violently into its plexiglass prison when backs were turned.

Three security guards left in a month.

GCBC didn't want to take the job, but he had a reputation as the toughest cop out there, before his early retirement. But he figured he could use a little extra income to help his aging parents out.

Training night. He met three other security guards in the wing of the museum that housed the memorial.

"So, um. You know the drill, I suppose," the supervisor says, a little nervously. The other two security guards were certainly eager to leave for the night.

"Museum closes at 8. Keep a close eye, uh, over here," she motioned to the memorial wing. B raised an eyebrow over his aviators.

"All right! Looks like you're all set," she shoved a radio into his hands and was out in a moment, the other security guards trailing after her like timid dogs.

B locked the doors after him and set about wandering around the museum.

"You've heard the stories haven't you?" G asked suddenly.

"That's all they are," B replied, eyeing the displays as his boots echoed across the hall.

"Three security guards in a month. That's a little strange wouldn't you say?"

"You sound like Mummy," B mused. 

The memorial wing was silent. No ghosts tonight.

He whistled to himself and made his way across the museum.

It was silent for hours, no sound except for B's footsteps and G's chatter. Lights in several parts of different wings would turn on suddenly. But it was an old museum. B didn't have much patience for mischief-- he just wanted to get through the night.

A few more silent hours. A light in the memorial wing flipped on.

"Why are you whistling the theme song from Beverly Hills Cop?" G asked.

"I'm not whistling that, I thought you were," B scowled. He turned off the light. The whistling continued.

B made his way into the display, with hand on flashlight. He caught movement in the corner of his eye and spun around, nearly jumping out of his skin. 

It was only himself, reflection staring nervously back at him from the blue helmet's plexiglass.

"You scare so easily," G said, almost giddily. B merely scowled. He straightened up, and turned right around  into someone in a bloodied blue spacesuit hovering six inches in front of him, whistling Axel F through broken teeth.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" B asked, too surprised to say anything else.

The figure shrugged. "Wherever the helmet goes, I go." He floated on his back, thoroughly inspecting B from every angle.

He was at a loss for words. The figure's voice was faint and tinny, like an old radio broadcast. He had dark circles under his eyes, and bloody scars across his face.  
"What year is it now anyway?" The figure asked. He had had enough of inspecting B and floated up to the ceiling, still whistling Axel F.

"Um, 2014," B stammered.

"No shit!!" the figure whistled low, floating back down.

"I gotta say, you're the first person who hasn't shit their pants when they saw me," The figure crossed his arms and grinned at B.

"I don't think you're supposed to be here," B said. His hand was on his radio but what good would that do him.

The figure sighed. "Look man, I told you, where the helmet goes, I go. It's been 30 years, I certainly can't figure it out."

He pointed at it, and B switched to better read the card.

This helmet belonging to engineer Dr. Benjamin C. Blue was one of the few items recovered from amongst the wreckage of the Gemini V. It serves a reminder of the brave sacrifices made by the men and women of Gemini V and the Space Corps throughout the years.

"Huh," said G.  
"Dude isn't it funny because like my helmet and shit is blue and Red wore red and Yoon wore yellow and--"

"You mean to say," said B, "that you've been here for 30 years?"

Benjamin was doing cartwheels above B's head. "Naw, dude," he said, "I was in a basement at Space Corps for a while."

B groaned and rubbed his temples. He turned the lights off and made his rounds through the museum again. Ben floated after him, still whistling.

"Are you gonna follow me around all night?" B asked.

Ben shrugged. "Probably, I dunno man."

"Just find another song to whistle," B sighed.

Ben floated after him, excitedly whistling Take On Me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny angsts over society's youth. Ghostbusters ensues.

They took bets on their new night security guard. The supervisor gave him a week. The rest of the security guards two weeks. Three and a half weeks later GCBC still came into the museum every night, unreadable as always. He locked up, wished everyone goodnight, and made a beeline for the memorial wing where Benny was undoubtedly bobbing around the ceiling or floating through displays. Such were his nights.

B found Benny an hour later, sitting cross-legged in a corner of the ceiling, frowning pensively at the memorial displays. B coughed and watched Benny as he chewed his lip through his missing teeth, brow furrowed in a worried expression.

_"Ahem,"_ G coughed again, shining his flashlight in the corner.  
Benny looked up and shimmered abruptly. “Oh, hey man,” he smiled, floating down to sit eye level with B.

_"Something troubling you tonight?"_ G motioned for Benny to follow him.

Benny bobbed along as B made his rounds through the museum.

"Nothin really," Benny scratched his head, "except the whole ‘being dead’ thing."

_"Sounds rough, buddy,"_ G replied with the lightest hint of a smirk.

Benny grinned wildly. “I’m glad I keep you around. You got a sense of humor.”

B winked and continued along the dark and quiet museum corridors, Benny floating after him.

"Busy day today?" B asked, shining his flashlight into corners. The place was more trashed than usual— tables were missing their chairs, trashcans were overturned. The custodial crew were obviously in a hurry to leave for the night.

Benny shrugged. “School groups mostly. The middle schoolers are the worst.”

"That’s nothing new."

"Oh my god these kids today!" Benny agitatedly ran his fingers through his hair. "They run around and knock stuff over and laughing with their light-up little.. phones and games and shit!"

_"They’re just kids,"_ G offered. He sat on a bench in the hallway, under a mural of Space Corps circa 1983. His knee was giving him trouble but he’d never admit it to anyone else.

"No one gives a shit anymore, man," Benny sat cross-legged in the air in front of B, gesturing to the room around him. "Do you remember how excited you got when you first saw the shuttle launch and the Eagle landing on the moon back in the day?" He sighed exasperatedly.

B furrowed his brow. “I.. I don’t think I’m that much older than you.”

Benny threw his hands in the air. “Well they’re always showing the landing in the next wing over, go watch it sometime.” He pouted with his chin in his hands and elbows on his knees.

_"So that’s what’s got you bugged today, huh pal?"_

"What? No, I don’t care if you’ve watched the moon landing or not—" G’s kind smirk stopped Benny mid sentence.

"Oh. Yeah I guess. I mean—" He sighed deeply, silently composing his thoughts.

"What happened, man?" Benny’s tinny voice wavered and the few display lights in the hall wavered with it. "When did people stop caring? When did space and science and math stop being cool?" He floated down to B, who didn’t have an answer for him.

"I saw this girl grow up here. She loved the museum, she loved everything about science. She was gonna grow up to be an astronaut, she said. Last time I saw her a few years ago she had her arm around her partner, moaning about how lame museums were. All that light in her eyes was gone. What’s up with that, man," Benny finished sadly, on the verge of absolute tears if he could have managed them.

"Surely not all kids are like that," G suggested.

"No, but too many of them are you know?"

B merely nodded.The conversation turned too heavy for his liking. He slowly rose from the bench, adjusting his belt and brushing the wrinkles from his pants. Best not to laze about all night.

"Sorry your future sucks, dude," Benny read B’s thoughts too easily and gave him a sheepish half-smile.

"Don’t be," B replied. He made his way towards the wing that housed early bi-plane models. Benny bobbed along at B’s shoulder height, surprisingly silent for once.

"Oh," said B, "I nearly forgot. Brought you something you might enjoy."  
He stopped in his tracks in the middle of the room to dig around in his pockets until he extracted an iPod and a small portable speaker. Benny tried to act unimpressed.

B fumbled with it for a minute. The Ghostbusters theme burst loudly from the little speakers, filling the entire wing with sound.

Realization kicked in and Benny was doubled over in laughter. The lights flew up and the whole wing was nothing but warm glow and tinny laughter bouncing off the high ceilings.

"God. I’m gonna make sure you’re fired, asshole. Nice knowing ya," Benny grinned, his previous troubles momentarily drifting. off. He floated next to B, who whistling along to his iPod as he finished making his rounds through the museum.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost Benny is just a sad lonely little man, that's all.

The museum workers couldn’t understand it. The mischievous presence that had plagued them so long— that made the lights flicker on rainy days, that turned propellers on model airplanes when the rooms were empty of school groups— had finally seemed to settle down. They still had their little superstitions— say goodnight to him, don’t touch the helmet, don’t turn the light off on the helmet, Ever. But it was quieter at the museum than it had been in ages.

The security supervisor was dumbstruck. Why in so many years had they been so unable to keep a night guard but suddenly this guy shows up and not only sticks around for months but keeps whatever weird activity was going on at bay as well?

_"I’m Irish,"_ G merely winked, _"we know how to take care of our spirits."_

And take care of Benny he did.

Benny was immensely lonely, that was all. He wanted to listen to 80s music and talk about his spaceships and talk about space and science and share the excitement he felt with someone else. Every night B was there with his iPod full of obscure 80s pop and a listening ear. They roamed the museum wings together, music blasting while Benny floated near B’s shoulder. Benny loved space more than anything, and B was rather surprised at how goddamn smart Benny was. He would babble endlessly about inertial dampeners and faulty hyperdrives and the time he piloted the Gemini V out of an asteroid field with only his Ensign and his wits and a damaged capacitor and it was pronounced “Geminee”, dammit, why did no one ever pronounce it right?

It was weird, B admitted, but it was better than dead silence all night. And Benny didn’t ask about the other guy. He talked to him same as he would talk to the other guy. It was nice to talk to someone he could be himself around. Both himselves.

They sat in the memorial wing like they did every night, Alphaville quietly crooning away while Benny sat cross-legged on top of his helmet. There was something morbidly ironic in Benny’s singing along to “let us die young or let us live forever”.

"I won’t be back tomorrow," B said. He fiddled with his radio— silent as ever.

"WHAT," Benny exclaimed. The lights flickered.

"It’s Thursday, you goose. Dinner with family. Don’t I deserve a night off?"

Benny shrugged. “I _guess_. Tell them I said hi,” he sat up excitedly.

"Oh yeah, that’ll go over well. ‘By the way, mummy, this dead astronaut at my new job says hi,"

Benny beamed. “Do it and I won’t knock over the morning lady’s coffee.”

"You’re going to do it anyway, you devil," B teased. Benny stuck his tongue out at him.

B’s watch alarm blared. 6:30 already. The morning ladies would be ready to open the museum any minute. B stood from the bench and stretched, yawning widely.

Suddenly it felt as if he’d been hit in the forehead by a wet leaf, and his whole body felt like he was walking down a misty lane in early morning. The feeling went as quickly as it came, and Benny was hovering inches from his face, biting his lip.

"I tried to kiss you," he whispered, "did it work?"

B stood there with his mouth open, completely at a loss for words. “Um. Yeah, I suppose,” he stammered.

Benny’s mischievous smile was ear to ear. “Cool,” he said. Another wet leaf to B’s cheek and Benny evaporated away for the morning.

_"Did.. did that just happen?"_

_“_ HUSH,” B was blushing fiercely, busying himself with the keys to unlock the museum for the morning ladies.

They bid him good morning, and it took all his effort to greet them with a curt nod like he always did. For all his gruffness, though, B couldn’t keep the smile from creeping across his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who goes to their workplace on their days off anyway

Thursday. A rare day off and one of the few nights he was able to spend dinner with his parents before heading to the museum at night. He had some free time— what better way to spend it than at work.

B rarely visited museums anyways— he was always far too busy with school or the police force or gang fights. It wouldn’t hurt to visit his workplace during the day when it was full of visitors and school tours and little families from Iowa. He went in whistling quietly, nodding with a small smile to the afternoon docents before heading straight to the memorial wing.

It was even more somber and quiet during the day than it was at night, and seldom visited— the only school groups to pass through were older classes with older teachers; ones who remembered the Gemini V tragedy as if it happened yesterday. The lights were soft and dim, warming the mahogany paneling that softened the dull roar of the rest of the museum.

A poster-sized illuminated photograph of the Gemini V on the back wall caught his eye. Five astronauts with different colored flight suits in a classic school portrait style, sitting or standing with their helmets under their arms. Five people of varying genders, varying heights, varying excitement levels, with Benny in the center beaming for all the world, hair slicked back and full of sunshine and summer freckles.  
They were all so bright, and, and full of a thousand promises of the future. The caption informed him this was the last photograph of the crew before their ill-fated mission. Ensign Yoon was the youngest at 22.

He wasn’t sure quite how long he was staring at the Gemini V crew but his reverie was broken by a gentle chilly breeze across his shoulders and back, ruffling his hair.

"I was totally hot back then, huh," a mischievous voice whispered in his ear, leaving him in shivers and breaking the moment.GOD. He whirled around, half expecting to come face to face with that familiar snaggletooth smile, but there was nothing there but himself and the empty museum wing.

A cold caress hit his cheek and the surrounding air warmed considerably. B shook his head. Never a moment’s rest around here.

———————

"It’s so good you had a moment to drop by for supper," his mother smiled kindly, setting a magnificent spread of roast chicken and potatoes on the table in front of them.

_"I always have time for you two,"_ G said, and he meant it. It had always been the four of them, and his parents were his whole world. He took care of them as best he could.

Dinner was nice, but it always was. The combination of being home for the evening and stolen kisses from a certain astronaut lifted his spirits so considerably even his mother took notice.

"What’s got you all smiles, Danny," she said slyly, waving a forkfull of potatoes at him.

B couldn’t fight the blush spreading across his cheeks and before he could stop himself the glasses were on and G was babbling away a mile a minute. _"We’ve met someone!! He’s smart and—-"_

B flung the glasses off fumbled with his aviators. The stupid—— he couldn’t help himself. He was excited. They both were. It’d been years…

Suddenly his mother was all smiles and even Pa had leaned in closer.  
"So you met someone, eh?"

B fought to keep his face even. “Just.. a friend,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

His mother smiled with that glint in her eye that all mothers have— the one that every child knew well and it never failed to break B.

Glasses on. _"He’s an astronaut!"_ G blurted. Ma clasped her hands together and Pa nodded in approval.

"Bring him ‘round for supper sometime," Ma winked.

"Yeah, of course," B muttered through a mouthful of chicken. He’d argue with G later.  
Thankfully, the subject wasn’t brought up again the rest of the night. There was pie and coffee and B offering to change the batteries in the smoke detector. He couldn’t have asked for a more refreshingly normal evening.

His luck never lasted long though. He headed home just after 11, full of pie and arms full of bags and bags of leftovers, and all but tripped over the homeless man sleeping on the front porch of his apartment.

Goddammit. Not this again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the heck kind of name is Vitrivius anyway

"Goddammit, old man!" B grumbled, stepping gingerly over the sleeping lump leaning against his front door.

"Hello Danny," he said placidly, blinking eyes milky with cataracts. Suspicions confirmed. It was Vitruvius after all. Or Whatever that old man called himself. He was as much a nuisance as a stray cat, and B looked after him much the same. He came and went and perhaps clung to B and stayed on the front porch of his apartment because B was the only one who ever showed him any kindness.

"I thought you'd gotten back on your feet," B sighed. He offered a hand and helped the man up.

"I heard you needed me," Vitruvius said, plain as day.

B scratched his head and unlocked the four deadbolts.

 

"I.. I don't.." He left it at that. He sighed the door open and invited Vitruvius in. His ma had given him enough leftovers to feed an army, it was surely the least he could do.

"The starman needs you," Vitruvius said, sitting placidly at the kitchen table while B arranged a plate of leftovers.

 

"I beg your pardon." B furrowed his brow. Had the old man been following him?

"The starman clad in suit of blue, trapped in space and out of place. It's up to you, Danny."

"What are you going on about?" B turned around, but Vitruvius had vanished, the chair askew the only indication he'd been there.

 _"That was weird,"_ G said. He shivered involuntarily, still holding the plate of leftover chicken.

 

"He's just a crazy old man," B frowned. He threw the paper plate in the trash and busied himself with tidying up the kitchen.

_"He knows about Benny, that's a little odd."_

"He was probably listening to us talking to Ma on the phone." B slammed the refrigerator door shut.

_"What if he can help Benny.. Y'know, move on?"_

"He's just a crazy old homeless man, give it a rest."

_"Don't act like you don't want to help Benny."_

"Why do you care so much?"

_"Godssakes, you're the one who blushes every time you think about him!"_

B fumed silently. G's endless chatter at the back of his mind was right, though. What if he could help Benny move on? Would Benny even want that? God if G would just shut up and let him think. This whole situtation was stupid, disgusting. He never believed in ghosts before and suddenly Benny the Dead Astronaut had nearly taken over his life.

Tomorrow would be another day. He'd talk to Benny then.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If we do not destroy ourselves, we will one day venture to the stars._

Instead of sleeping all day as he usually did, B awoke in the afternoon, determined to do a little digging in the wake of Vitruvius's strange and unexpected appearance and even stranger disappearance. It pricked uncomfortably at the back of his mind, like an itch he couldn't scratch.

In the month since he'd gotten to know Benny, all that he had gotten out of him was that he was born in 1960, had been enlisted in the Space Corps since he was 18, loved The Last Starfighter, and once piloted his beloved Gemini V out of an asteroid field with only his wits and his Ensign.

B tried his hardest to prod about the accident but Benny was too good at avoiding the subject.

"Yeah man but did I tell you about the time I piloted the Gemini out of an asteroid field with only my wits and my Ensign?"

Damn him. It was his go-to avoidance tactic.

So they would wander the museum together, B silently listening as Benny chattered away about some heroic Space Corps mission.

The internet proved to be not quite the wealth of information that B had hoped. Not much popped up when he searched for the Gemini V. A few specs sheets, some pictures. Not much about its crew. A few headline articles about the accident. The only photograph he found was the last one of the crew-- the very same hanging in the memorial wing of the museum.

He resisted the urge to save it to the hard drive. G would tease him endlessly. Instead he stretched and yawned and made himself another cup of coffee.

So another round of endless shameful search engines began.

Dr. Benjamin C. Blue.

The name stuck out clear as day and B's heart gave a small flutter. An article from the local paper a few days after the accident. Just a brief recap. No pictures.  
Scan scan scan astronauts scan scan scan Space Corps scan scan scan families scan scan interred at the national cemetery.

He looked at his watch. 3:30. Plenty of time.

_"You're in deep now,"_ G teased. B merely scowled. G was right, of course. He knew he was in too deep the minute he kept letting a stupid ghost talk to him instead of quitting his job like any sane man would have.

\---

Trying to find Benny's grave among the endless sea of military graves was proving to be a more daunting task than B had realized, and he wandered around for an hour before he finally stammered up the courage to ask.  
"In the mausoleum," the kindly woman at the welcome desk told him, with just a little bit of searching, "with the rest of the astronauts."

B's boots echoed loudly throughout the marble halls, his eyes scanning the endless walls of plaques, interrupted every few feet with a mounted sconce full of someone's beloved leaving red, white, and blue flowers.

What the fuck was he doing here anyway? It had been close to 30 years-- the Gemini crash a distant memory. Benny certainly didn't seem to give a damn what happened to him or who came and went.

_"I think you're just full of morbid curiosity."_

"Shut it."

A name in the bottom left corner caught his eye. He winced down on his bad knee to get a better look, swiping off his aviators and trying to ignore his reflection in the polished marble.

  
BENJAMIN C. BLUE  
B. AUGUST 4 1960 D. JULY 6 1987  
 _The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will one day venture to the stars._

It hit him with all the force of a boot to the gut. Benny felt years away. All that remained was here, in a sad corner of a quiet mauseoleum. He felt a chill as he stared at the marker bearing Benny's name, faded with age and all alone in the corner, and wished more than anything he'd thought to bring some flowers.

  
\-----

B was already full into his shift but Benny was nowhere to be found. He wandered aimlessly, feeling a growing sense of panic and he hated himself for it. Just do your damn job.

"He'll turn up in his own time," G said kindly. "He always does."

An hour later B found him in the memorial wing sitting on top of his helmet. Nothing unusual.

"Hey spaceman," B all but breathed a sigh of relief, flipping on the light. Benny jerked his head up, his eyes glowing dangerously. His hair stood on end, all but crackling with energy,

"Someone fucking visited my grave today," his voice was low and chillingly sinister. "It better not've been you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You've a massive heart but you're fucked up, kid._

"Alright spaceman," B said coolly, "you gonna tell me what's wrong or y'just gonna pout all night?"

"Who's pouting!!" Benny said shrilly, rising to the ceiling.

B merely smiled at him, and turned on his heel out of the memorial hall, counting the seconds until Benny materialized in front of him.

"WAIT, DUDE GET BACK HERE," Benny called after him, shimmering in front of him right on cue.  
B's smile fell when he read Benny's expression.

"Just--" Benny anxiously smoothed his hands over his hair, tucking a few unruly curls behind his ears. "Don't visit my grave again, okay?" his voice was quiet and trembling and for once he wasn't hovering at B's eye level. No wonder he was a pilot-- the kid was tiny.

"There-- there's nothing there man. Some ashes. That's it. Don't-- stay here. With me." His voice was tinny and distant, his eyes fraught with worry.

Shame crept along B's face, turning him red. Obviously it had been a sore point for Benny-- and he teased him about it.

A fantastic start to the night.

B decided to say nothing in return, his eyes unreadable as ever behind his aviators.

He continued his circuit around the museum, glad to see that Benny decided to float along after him.  
Without Benny's miles per hour chatter his footsteps sounded louder than usual and even the familiar shadows of the model aircraft made him uneasy. No wonder the old security guys had always stayed holed up watching the CCTV instead of walking the floor.

"Have you ever been-- okay so you know when you're asleep- and your bed is just so warm and comfortable you don't want to leave even though you should?" Benny asked out of nowhere.

B thought about it briefly. "Yeah."

"So imagine you're in bed-- it's not the most comfortable but it's yours and you like it and you don't wanna get out of it. But then someone comes pulling your arm, tugging on you to drag you out. Not enough to make you leave, but enough to really make you feel like shit for staying in bed. Imagine that for 30 years. That's what it feels like-- how I know someone's at the cemetery.." Benny trailed off, floating on his back with his arms behind his head and brow furrowed.

B chewed his lip thoughtfully, listening to his boots tap against the floor.

"That's rough, buddy."  
"You're telling me," Benny said moodily.

Another circuit around the museum.

"Why do you hang around so much anyway," Benny asked suddenly, crossing his arms in front of B. "No one's stayed as long as you have. No one's tried to talk to me."

"Just doin my job," said B.

"It's just your job, then?" Benny bristled.

"Of course not--"

B chewed his words thoughtfully, avoiding Benny's glare. "It's for my parents," he said finally.

"Your parents?" Benny spat viciously.

"Well, yes," B said, a little taken aback. Benny had his moments of running hot and cold but nothing B said today seemed to be the right thing.

"Load of bullshit," Benny muttered under his breath.

"What crawled up your ass anyway?" B blurted and immediately regretted it.

"I'M FUCKING PISSED ABOUT BEING DEAD, ALRIGHT? I'M NOT A PERSON SO STOP MAKING ME FEEL LIKE ONE." His rage was electrifying. The lights surged dangerously above them.

"God, you're as pouty as any child," B said blandly. "You think because you're stuck here forever you can make everyone else feel like shit? You were a person once too. Don't think for one goddamn minute there's not people around who care about you."

This set Benny entirely over the edge. He bristled with rage, rising to hover threateningly over B.

"NAME ONE PERSON, MAN. ONE FUCKING PERSON. ALL OF MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD, BECAUSE I WAS STUPID ENOUGH TO THINK WE COULD MAKE THE LANDING. DO YOU KNOW WHY I'M BURIED BY MYSELF? BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE WANTED ME. MY PARENTS DIED YEARS AGO, I HAVE NO OTHER FAMILY. AND YOU'VE GOT PARENTS WHO LOVE YOU AND WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO SIT THERE AND TELL ME THAT PEOPLE STILL CARE ABOUT ME?"

"GODDAMMIT BEN, ARE YOU STUPID AS WELL AS DEAD? THIS JOB PAYS SHIT, WHY DO YOU THINK I STICK AROUND BECAUSE IT SURE AS HELL ISN'T FOR MY HEALTH."

"You boys will wake the dead with the ruckus you're causing in here," Vitruvius said calmly, sitting on the bench behind them.

B wheeled around, his heart throbbing in his throat. How long had he been in here? How the fuck did he get through?

"Jesus Christ. What are you doing here," he blinked.

"He's here all the damn time," Benny said irritably, letting himself float to the floor.

B's eyes furrowed under his sunglasses. He instinctively reached around his belt for a gun that wasn't there. He gripped his radio tight instead. "How'd you get in?"

Vitruvius didn't answer. He stood slowly, leaning on his cane for balance.

"Benjamin, please," he said, and Benny floated down, pouting murderously.

"You're not going to get anywhere shouting at each other."

"If you don't tell me how you got in here, I swear to God I'll call the cops," B growled, wishing more than anything he had his sidearm.

"Please, I'm trying to negotiate here," Vitruvius said, in that same annoyingly calm demeanor.

"What are you gonna do, call yourself?" Benny snorted. B glared back at him. 

And then everyone was talking over each other. It was loud chaos for a several minutes, B pacing back and forth demanding answers while Benny floated above them, shrieking and interjecting every five minutes.

"Listen," Vitruvius finally snapped. "Benjamin, do you want to move on or not."

Benny floated down like a deflated helium balloon.

"I just wanted to play hide and seek tonight," he said quietly.

"You've gotta work it out yourselves," said Vitruvius, making his way for the door. "Help each other out. You need each other."

B blinked and Vitruvius was gone, leaving behind a sudden chill in the air.

"Goddammit all."

The fuck was this all supposed to mean. He rubbed his temples as he checked and triple-checked the locks.

Next time, more sleep. The job was getting to him. Take a weekend off, you deserve it.

"I just wanted to have a good time tonight," Benny said sadly, before floating away to sulk on his helmet.

 

_You're in too deep, boyo._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a beasttt thanks to the ever-marvelous Peggy and the eternally incandescent CleverSnail for all their help and cheerleading. <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I used to watch the moon retreat and wonder where it goes, now I just wonder why my head is overrun with ghosts_

B's in the museum. Except it's not the museum. It's the basement, downstairs. Rows and rows of rusted filing cabinets. Old dioramas covered with tarps, mannequins there, bits of broken biplanes there.

He's wandering through the corridors of filing cabinets, following the sound of faint sobs.

He gets closer to the back of the basement, the dust growing thicker and the sobs growing louder and louder-- heart-rending and completely animalistic.

A small blue astronaut is sitting on the floor in front of the photograph of the Gemini V crew, but it's been vandalized-- the faces all scratched out, Benny's face scratched out and covered with something red and drippy.

Benny's holding his helmet in his hands, rocking back and forth, shattering the silence with violent sobs.

"Ben?"

Benny turns around at the sound of B's voice, blood-red tears seeping from hollowed eyes.

"You said you were gonna help me," he wails, his voice empty and unearthly and it makes the lights flicker.  
He sobs even louder and a bulb above them bursts.

B woke up in a shudder of cold sweat.

A week had passed since Benny's tumultuous outburst at the museum, and B had yet to return to work. It wasn't hard to make excuses-- His mum was ill, he needed to take her to the doctor, they needed him at home, etc.

After every afternoon he called out his supervisor was quick to add, "Now, if the job's-- y'know-- If it's a lot to handle and you need to quit then just say the word."

B might have been frustrated but in the past few months he'd grown quite attached to that museum and hated to think what disrepair it might have been in without him there. It was never meant to be a permanent gig- just something to get him through til all that mess cleared up and workman's comp kicked in. He was in too deep and he hated himself for it. This was the third dream that Benny had been in-- it was always the same.

Benjamin Blue. Haunting him even in dreams. What an asshole.

Time to get up. Haul himself to the coffee shop on the corner. Maybe he'd go to work that night.

The sight of Vitruvius waiting in a corner of the coffee shop was more than enough to change his mind.

B groaned and rubbed his temples.

_"We should talk to him."_  
"We can't deal with anymore goddamn ghosts."

"Hey," Vitruvius said from across the room, "grab your coffee and sit here. We have a few things to discuss."

Nevertheless, B sat down with his cup of coffee and a dangerous scowl.

"What do you want," he muttered.

"The spaceman says you haven't been to work in a week," Vitruvius says blandly, his eyes scrutinizing B.

"I've been a little busy," B snaps, adjusting his aviators and taking a swig of too-hot coffee.

"Busy having nightmares?" Vitruvius's tone suggests he knows something B doesn't.

B furrowed his brow, his grip around his coffee cup tightening. "What business of it is yours?"

"The spaceman loves you, you realize that right?"

B nearly spat out his coffee.

_"I told you,"_ G's singsong voice rang in his ear.

"What's that got to do with anything," B regained his composure, glad his aviators covered most of his face.

"You need to work on your listening skills, gentlemen."

"I'm not going back," B said, the resolution in his voice wavering.

"You are, though," said Vitruvius rather matter-of-factly, "the starman needs you and you need him. You're the only one who can help."

"I don't see you in any hurry to help him."

"I've been doing work of my own for the past 30 years. Do you really think I like sleeping on your doorstep?"

B rubbed his eyes with his fists, and downed the rest of his coffee.

"I'm late," he said.

"You shift doesn't start for another four hours," Vitruvius said pointedly.

B merely glared at him, and walked out the door.

He walked along, hands stuffed in his pockets and mind buzzing worse than a hive of bees.

_"Library?"_

"No. Not today."

_"I thought you loved him too."_

"Of course I do!" B scowled, "but thinking it and hearing it said are two entirely different things."

_"Museum it is, then?"_

B rubbed his temples again and sighed. "Yeah, museum it is."

\----

He was greeted with many a fond "Hello!" and "How's your dear mum?" from the museum workers, their smiles so sincere and friendly he'd quite forgotten how pleasant it was to work there. It was a relatively quiet day-- only a handful of schoolgroups. B wandered about, hoping for a glimpse of blue flight suit.

"Yeah, look at you. Your phone has more computing power and more gigs of RAM than our entire space program had in the 80s and you're doing what-- playing a game to throw birds at pigs? Jesus Christ. Stay in school."

Benny was floating along unseen to everyone else, sourly making comments at the middle schoolers milling about entirely disinterested in the early space exploration wing.

B waited for the crowd to clear, hoping he wouldn't need to do much to grab Benny's attention. One glimpse and Benny floated over to him immediately.

"I'm pissed off at you," Benny pouted, but he fought back a smile.

"I'm sorry," said B. It was all he could think to say. Benny merely snorted. "I gotta.. I gotta show you something."

Benny led them to the memorial hall, which was strangely dark and roped off. B felt the faintest hint of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Maybe those nightmares weren't merely nightmares after all.

A cheerful sign on a stanchion exclaimed "Pardon our Stardust! This exhibit is Under Construction."

"I'm scared, B," Benny looked at him with round blue eyes, rimmed with fear and dark circles. "I've been here for years and I don't know what's going on. I need your help."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For you are made of nebulas and novas and night sky, you're made of memories you bury or live by_

If there was one thing B was good at it was research. Making connections from the barest thread. His skills in uncovering information had helped him in his old job and he hoped it'd help him here. 

So while Benny was upstairs moaning and pouting away and languishing over the renovation of his exhibit, B was deep in the bowels of the basement digging through rusty filing cabinets, attempting to find anything on Gemini V and her crew and shed some light on the reason Benny was stuck forever to that blue helmet.  
\---

"Maybe I'm happy here," Benny said moodily, appearing over B's shoulder.

"You're miserable," B grumbled, flicking through more dusty files without looking at Benny.

"Viv said you gotta help me. He didn't say anything about moving on."

"What if moving on is helping you, eh?"

Benny scowled at this.

B scowled back and buried his nose deeper in the filing cabinet.

Benny floated above him, pouting murderously.

"What, you don't like me anymore so you're gonna figure out ways to get rid of me." Benny finally muttered.

"It's not that, Ben," B slammed shut the drawer he'd been rummaging through and opened the one beneath it.

"It's a bit complicated." Entirely complicated.

"I'm dead," Benny said thickly.

"Yes you are."

They fell back into silence.

"What if you steal the helmet," Benny suddenly said, brightening up the room, "take it to your apartment, I never have to look at this shitty museum ever again, and we live happily ever after or some bullshit."

"Ben."

"It's a good plan."

"I can't exactly sneak out of here with your helmet under my arm now, can I?" B said with the faintest hint of a smirk. And Benny smiled in return.

B shuffled through a few more folders. File after file of specs sheets on the Gemini V and her crew, blueprints for the museum. He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, but this wasn't it.

Benny hovered at B's shoulder, slightly more at ease than he had been all evening

"If you're looking for a magical file that says 'This is How to Help Benny' you're not gonna find it."

"I'm just looking for stuff about your crew, maybe something about the accident."

Benny's mood darkened significantly. 

"I don't want to talk about that," he spat.

"Maybe that's why you're still here, eh?" B scowled at him, deep and angry.

"You're not helping, dude."

"Listen, do you like being stuck here? Shuffled from basement to basement stuck to that godforsaken helmet? For chrissakes Ben someone comes along to help and you're gonna refuse? Let me help you. That's all I fucking ask," B slammed the cabinet draw shut and the entire stack rattled.

They stared each other down. B crossed his arms defiantly while Benny glared from his vantage point from the ceiling.

"I'm stuck here because it was all my fault. Everyone died because of me, okay?" Benny's voice was slow, calculated. It sent a chill of unease down B's spine.

"That can't be the only reason--"

"Yeah well maybe it is because it's the only reason I can think of. And that'd better help because I am not spending another fifteen years in storage." Benny floated down, defeated.

"I just.. I don't know if the crew is happy. If any of them are stuck here like me. It's been eating away for years."

"Perhaps that's it, then," B straighted up, adjusting his sunglasses.

"I hope they're at peace," Benny said. "That's all I need to hear."

"How will you find out if you don't move on, eh?" B asked quietly. He slowly shut the file cabinet drawer.

"They probably hate me. I hate me, let's be honest here."

"I like you," B's voice is barely above a whisper. The lights above them glow. 

"You're not a bad, um, person, Ben," B and his busted knee creak to the floor and he leaned against the flining cabinet. Benny settled down next to him

"Listen, I've read about all the stuff you've done. Youngest engineer in the Space Corps to date. And that bit about the asteroid field and capacitor."

"That time I piloted the Gemini out of an asteroid field with broken capacitor and just my wits and ensign?" Benny smiled-- the first genuine one all night.

"Exactly," said B. "You've got a lot of figuring yourself out, I think."

Benny sighed deeply.

Both were silent for a very long time.

"I don't want to leave you," Benny was the first to break the silence, voice trembling.

"I'll stay here as long as you need me."

Benny brightens significantly. "Is that a promise?"

B nods, and swallows hard. "It is. I've already promised to do everything I can to help."

\--------

The rest of the night passes by as a delightful blur. Benny's in a rare good mood now, floating madly through the hallways, chattering away a million miles an hour. 

B's watch alarm beeped before they both knew it, and Benny floated down to B's eye level.

"See you tomorrow?" Benny bit his lip eagerly.

"Tomorrow as always," B's quiet. He's got a lot on his mind and this goodbye doesn't feel right,

"I love you," Benny waved quietly as B locked the museum doors behind him.

"You too, Ben."

\----------

B slid into his car with a heavy sigh.

"He's ready to move on," Vitruvius said from the passenger seat, and B nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Jaysus what are you doing here," B grumbled.

"He has to choose and you have to help him."

"Christ, with the riddles--"

"Benjamin has to chose between you or moving on. You said you'd help him, so what's it gonna be?" Vitruvius's gaze is cold and stern. B can't help but squirm and doesn't meet his eye.

"I'd do anything for him," B said finally.

Vitruvius nods. "I have also made promises to Benjamin. And we've miles to go before we sleep."

With that, he vanished, leaving B alone to his thoughts.

He loved Benny, it was true. He loved every weird fucked-up bit of whatever this relationship was. Hurting Benny was the last thing he wanted. It was all he could do to go home and dread the time til he clocked back in later that night.


End file.
